Happy Anniversary
by TrivialQueen
Summary: "If this is going to work, Thomas, you're going to have to get rough..." Thomas and Elizabeth Cromwell celebrate another anniversary. Very M, PWP, BDSM.
1. Happy Anniversary

Happy Anniversary

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Disclaimer: I am not a Theologian, a Historian, or a TV Producer; I therefore do not own any thing.  
Pairing: Thomas Cromwell/ Elizabeth Wyckes Cromwell  
Summary: "Well, Mister Secretary, you seem to have a problem with instructions." Thomas/Elizabeth, shameless smut, Very M.  
**Warning: Shameless smut, bondage, blindfolds, debauchery, devoid of plot or point.**  
_Note: I was talking to a fellow writer about my prompt 58, Lovers, she was so excited about the idea of Thomas and Elizabeth having sex, and I had to disappoint her. I had intended to write a little piece about Thomas welcoming Elizabeth to court, our Lady Cromwell literally running into the King and the christening of a certain piece of office furniture, but as I was standing in a cornfield of all places the idea of James Frain tied to a bedpost hit me. And well… I'll stop talking now, nothing ruins the mood more.

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"Elizabeth?" Thomas asked entering the dim, empty bedchamber. It was their anniversary and he had worked late, through no fault of his own and despite his best efforts. He could understand her being upset, but his inability to find his wife of twenty odd years had him worried.

A sound behind him brought pause, but before he could turn darkness covered his eyes. The room had been dimly lit by a few moody candles but now he could see nothing. He stiffened.

"Shh," Elizabeth's voice was in his ear, "It's our anniversary. Thomas, you're late." She made a hard 't' sound on late. "Did you think you could get away with that?" Another hard t. she nipped his ear. He calmed a little to find his attacker his wife and the blindfold dark silk. He was still blind but it was not unnerving. Thomas tried to turn. Tried to touch her.

"Ahahah, you made me wait." She teased pulling away, without his eyes he could hear her better, the sound of her voice, the dimple of their mattress as she rested there. "As penance you are not allowed to touch," hard 't's, hard Thomas. "me."

"That won't make this night any fun." He teased.

"Hush. Now strip." She ordered.

"Strip?" She spoke slowly.

"Ta-ke. Your. Clothes. Off." The scarf detracted from his expression but he pulled one anyway, though he did not complain, for his wife wanted him naked. Only good things could…come…from this.

A smile on his face he followed his wife's command, secretarial hands undoing the buttons on his jacket with the precision he brought to all things, his shirt soon followed. He could hear her appreciation, feel her gaze. He knew what he looked like. He was not the broad shouldered sports man like Suffolk or the King, he was narrow and lean, little fat or hair, save for the thick curls on his head. He knew he was not the cock of the walk, his over large ears rang with no praises, but the low hum in Elizabeth's throat told him that she at least appreciated his body, and that was all that mattered really. Feeling daring he did a little dance as he removed his pants, drawing a most unladylike snort from his bride as he wiggled his hips and twirled his linen shorts in his hand before casting them aside to land on God knew what.

"Very nice." She giggled before her tone turned to that authoritative siren's call that he loved. "Now get over here." He walked straight forward to their bed, he knew their bedroom – blindfolded. He heard the mattress creak as she rose to her knees upon it and kissed him. He wove his hands into her hair but soon found himself on his back on the bed, she straddling him, lips pressed to his ear.

"What did I say about touching?"

"No touching." He felt her smile.

"Well, Mister Secretary, you seem to have a problem with instructions." He felt her take his large right hand in her small one and raise it above his head; he felt the silk wrap around his wrist.

"Elizabeth?" she repeated the action with his left hand tying him securely, but not tightly to their headboard. "Elizabeth!"

"Trust me." She whispered against his lips before her tongue breached his defenses and swallowed any objections he might have had. He moaned. She smiled. Her hands raking down his body, making him shiver at the sensation of her nails on his sensitive skin, her mouth followed, stopping momentarily at his jaw, the point over his pulse that made his heart race and his body writhe as she nipped and sucked, sure to leave a mark come morning.

Her hands raked down his ribs as she sucked one small male nipple and then the other, her fingers darted south as her tongue penetrated his navel before turning its attention to his member. Her right hand drew a teasing design over his heaving chest as the other cupped his testacies, finger running alone the seam and making his eyes cross. He'd never been in his wife's mouth before, he'd heard others speak of such oral pleasures but had never dreamed to experience them, just as he'd heard of a man tying a woman to their bed but he'd never imagined he would be bound. What had his little wife been up to? Not that he had the ability to think clearly on the subject, he was blinded by sensation and frustration, his hands clawed at his restraints, he desperately wished to rip himself from his bonds and touch her – take her, but they held tight and he could be not but frustrated… and satisfied. Pleasure built between his thighs and behind his eyes, he knew the feeling, it signaled his impending release.

"Elizabeth." He groaned from between clenched teeth. "Elizabeth!" She relented and cool air passed over his overheated body, she had moved. Her disappearance was solved by her kiss to the lips that blasphemed and praised God as she sent him soaring through the heavens. She pulled back a second time and he felt her hot hands on his shins; her shapely legs stretch out beside his shoulders.

Slowly, sslloowwllyy she lowered herself onto him, tight as always, wet as the ocean. His eyes rolled back in his head as she began to move, a figure eight bringing him into contact with every part of her, in and out, left and right. He was panting. He was pleading, surely audible out in the hall as he begged to touch her. It wasn't fair, his fingers itched to feel her flushed, smooth skin, slick with sweat, he wanted to turn her over, to be in charge of her pleasure instead of making her work for it.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth, Please. Let me touch you. Elizabeth, I beg you!" She laughed; he could feel it bubbling inside of her as she continued her tantalizing turns.

"The great Mister Cromwell begging? I should alert the masses."

"ELIZABETH!" he howled. Whether it was her mercy or God's he did not know but his hands broke free from their restrain and in a flash she was under him, he sheathed to his hilt as she screamed in surprise and pleasure. A single thrust had her inner muscles clamping tightly around him as she came – hard, her nails digging into his back, her eyes rolling back in her head, although he could not see this happen. Some men could get women to swoon, he could not, but he could get his wife to scream his name to the Heavens.

He managed to withstand her orgasm and tilted his hips, thrusting into her in a new, deeper rhythm; she twisted to meet his insertions, falling into their own special dance. He could feel the second wave of pleasure building within her and he knew he could not withstand its breaking. He threw off the blindfold, knowing that when they came the would do so together. He kissed her fiercely as they fell over the cliff together.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, shooting stars across his lids. It took all his efforts but he rolled over, off of her, his body surly crushing her flat. Pulling the blankets up around them he wrapped his arms around her, satin still dangling from his wrist, she nuzzled into his neck. He kissed her head, she the bruise she created.

"Happy Anniversary Thomas." She whispered sleepily.

"Happy Anniversary Elizabeth."


	2. Happy Anniversary Indeed

Happy Anniversary

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Disclaimer: I am not a Theologian, a Historian, or a TV Producer; I therefore do not own any thing.  
Pairing: Thomas Cromwell/ Elizabeth Wyckes Cromwell  
Summary: "If this is going to work, Thomas, you're going to have to get rough..." Thomas and Elizabeth celebrate another anniversary. Very M, PWP, BDSM.

_AN: I have no practical experience but I do have an internet connection and a subscription to Cosmo. I think I successfully hit ten different BDSM/ Fetish moments in this fic. I'm not sure if I should be worried or not... I hope I don't scare you; it's the most I've ever written before in once piece...

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"Are you certain?" Thomas Cromwell asked his wife horsy, in complete shock at her suggestion. She simply smiled and took his hands in hers, meeting his eye with a confident look.

"I am." she said, "Society has stupid ways to define power and manhood, ways that I do not agree with nor do I like, but that is the society we live in. The King has done everything to tear you down - he degrades and humiliates you. All the while you work yourself to the bone. I hate it, you hate it, but we can do nothing against our King. He breaks you down but if with one act I can build you up, give you back some of what you lost then how could I deny you - what kind of wife would I be?" Thomas closed his eyes. He would not cry, but he would thank God for Elizabeth, she was... absolutely perfect. He hissed her hands.

"Thank you."

Two figures slipped to the King's stables under cover of darkness. The barn was empty, save for the horses and would be until first light. Thomas Cromwell smiled and shut the heavy wooden door. Elizabeth walked before him, her long leather duster swinging about her ankles, ghosting over the ground as she inspected each stall.

"Thomas!" She called stopping before an empty stall at the back of the stable. She raised a hand to motion for him. God in heaven he was aroused by just that. The duster was long and black, tied tightly around her very slender waist and hugging her curves until it ended a few inches from the ground, revealing the toes of black riding boots. She wore black leather gloves without fingers and her long blonde hair was in a single sleek braid falling to her waist. If he could he would take her this very moment – against the wall, the floor – he did not care, he just had to have her. But he resisted, what she was offering she would never offer again. He entered the stall. It had been empty for a while, but would not remain so much longer. A new clean bed of straw had been laid and the bits hanging on the wall appeared new. He touched one of them – it was as smooth as the day it was made. He smiled.

"You recall our safe word?" He asked turning to face her. Elizabeth caught his eye and with a quirk of her brown and a smirk that only made his member harder she dropped her coat. His mouth went dry. She wore nothing except for her leather gloves and black leather riding boots that came over her knees and contrasted sharply with her creamy fair skin.

"Do _you_ recall the safe word, Thomas?" Elizabeth asked cheekily putting her hands on her hips. She was so happy that after all these ears she could still render him speechless, that he still wanted her after three children birthed and how many years lived. The lustful light in his eyes warmed her, but the night made her shiver. "Well?" she asked. Thomas turned and took the fresh bit from the wall. He then strode purposefully to Liz, arranging his face into a hard mask.

The façade crumbled quickly however as Thomas tried to insert the bit in Liz's full mouth, she resisted and he dropped the metal bar.

"Good God, I've hurt you!" he cried softly, he could never bare to cause Beth pain, he'd been a wreck when she went into labor – ever time, it did not matter that they had created life together, he only felt sick with the knowledge that she hurt and he could not heal her. "I'm sorry Lizzybette, I – are you certain?" Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all. Elizabeth bent and picked up the bit and shoved it in Thomas' hand.

"If this is going to work Thomas, you're going to have to get rough. I didn't say the safe word, I'm still willing – are you?" There was something in her eyes, he squared his shoulders and nodded. "Good." She said, "Now, no stopping until you get off or I say the wor-" he cut her off mid sentence with the bit.

"That's enough out of you." He said with a fierceness that surprised even him. Elizabeth smiled around the bit.

Thomas looked around; the rush of power he got from just being cross with his wife was a little unnerving. But he wasn't going to demure like some shrinking violet, nor was he going to dwell. His eyes landed on a riding crop hanging on the wall. He could still feel the crack of the King's large hand across the back of his head. He reached for the crop.

"All fours!" he barked taking the reins still attached to the bit and tugging gently. Elizabeth said to be rough but he was still mindful not to hurt her too much.

Liz complied with the order, her head submissively lowered, her glorious bottom, round and proud in the air, her back arched, unbound breasts hanging between her arms. It was a fight not to take her now; he'd always had a fondness for her ass. The lush curve of it spilling from around his hands, the firmness of muscle he felt there. The way she knew his weakness and used it to her advantage, how even fully clothed she could simply bend at the waist and drive all rational thought from his mind.

He tossed his own coat atop Elizabeth's and took the crop from the wall. He felt the end and then tested it against his palm, it did not do much against his leather gloves but it would surly sting against flesh. He smiled and took Beth's reigns again, bringing her head up so her back bowed further, but raising higher in the air. Cromwell held the reigns in his left hand, the crop in his right. With a swish that cut the air he landed the crop on Elizabeth's right cheek with a crack. She jumped and hissed around the bit. Thomas landed the crop against her left cheek in short order, the rush spanking her gave him outweighed his concern for hurting her. He was not a violent man but the pleasure he was getting was enough to make him question that. He spanked her again, watching a rose tint color her fair ass.

Crack

Crack

Crack

He landed three more in quick succession and Elizabeth writhed. Now there was some power and Christ in Heaven if he got any harder he might not last through the night. And then he heard it.

"Mor-gh" The safe word? He couldn't be sure, in a flash he was on his knees before her, removing the bit, the shame of hurting her overtaking his erection.

"What are you doing?" Elizabeth hissed.

"Did you say it? I thought I heard the word." Their safe word was 'Gregory', if either said it they would revert to the sex they had when they conceived Gregory Phillip, just a regular roll in the hay.

"I was saying 'More' as in give me more. You have no idea how this dominant you turns me on." He kissed her hard, the lust in her eyes bringing him back to rock hard. Dear God what had he done to deserve a woman like Elizabeth. He broke the kiss and forced the bit back in her mouth. He stood and straightened himself.

"Well for that interruption you will have to be punished." He said, watching a fire flair in Elizabeth 's eyes, her hips moving in small circles as she searched for some sort of contact to satisfy her. He took the reigns again. "I want you to count them. Count how many swats a woman like you gets for her wails." He didn't wait for her to nod.

Crack! "One!" It was slightly muffled but very clearly a number.

Crack! "Two!" Higher pitched but still strong. Three and four were the same.

Five was a moan, six a groan, and seven a guttural growl. Eight was no more than a whisper, nine a whimper and ten a drawn out sigh.

Thomas was panting as well; it'd taken as much effort to control himself as it had to control her. His cock was throbbing to the point of madness. Now. Now was the time. He tossed the crop across the stall; it clattered against the far wall as he undid his breeches, freeing the hardest erection he'd ever had. His member stood at full, leaking attention, curving up to meet his navel.

Thomas rounded on Elizabeth, noting with satisfaction that her eyes followed him, fixated on his member. She did not move but watched him keenly as he tested the strength of a wall hook. Convinced it would hold her weight Thomas took the reins once more, tugging gently so that she would crawl on her hands and knees to him. He kicked their coats over against the wall before taking the bit roughly from her teeth. Cupping her jaw he raised her to her knees, her tall leather boots and the coat protecting her from the floor. She met his gaze with lust like a forest fire, and like the blaze he was hypnotized for a moment. But he recovered shortly.

"Hands." he demanded. She raised them without breaking eye contact. He took her slender wrists in his large hand and bound them with the leather of the reins; he then tied the other end to the wall hook, suspending her slightly. She was as stable as if she were sitting on her knees and resting against the wall but venerable enough to continue with their charade.

He took his position behind her, his cock aligning with her cleft as he wound her braid around his hand, yanking her head back and kissing her forcefully as he thrust into her .she moaned into the kiss and thrust back against him, pushing her deeper into her. With his free hand he held her hips, stilling her and maintaining his control. He continued their kiss, exhaling as she tried to inhale, his lips sealing over hers. He removed his hand from her hair and fondled her full breasts, tugging a nipple gently, pinching the puckered areola between his fingers and he kneaded her chest. She exhaled and he inhaled. Each time they passed their breath he felt a little more light headed and euphoric, combined with the sweet sensation of being gripped tightly by his wife's inner channel he was in Utopia.

Eventually he relinquished her lips, they both gasped for air. Elizabeth trembled in his hands. His lips sought her neck with nips and sucks as the hand on her hip sought the curls between her legs and the bud at its apex that meant such pleasure for them both. He found it and Elizabeth threw her head back against his shoulder and moaned loud and long. He continued to mark her, tongue playing across her neck as his fingers danced across her breasts and below. She rocked against him, pulling on the reins for leverage and he thrust back, this give and take much more indicative of their relationship than any absolute power play. He bit down on her shoulder and he felt her release, she cried out, muscles clamping firmly around him, her arousal coming in warm waves, coating his fingers – the leather gloves he wore fated to forever smell of this encounter. He swirled his tongue around the bite soothing it, tasting the iron and excitement that flowed through her. She dropped her head against her bound wrists panting, shaking with pleasure, the quaking stronger than before. He took her braid and tugged her head up again his other hand still fingering the sensitive bud between her thighs.

"We're not done yet, Sweetheart." He growled in her ear, thrusting a little harder. In truth he would be soon, he had barely held off orgasm the first time, he would not be able to handle her second coming. His pace grew quicker, his fingers more demanding as they sought her bud, his lips harder against her neck. They were building to a crescendo together.

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh GAWD!" Elizabeth moaned, voice getting higher and higher and louder and louder until she came again. He followed right behind her with a bellow, spilling hot and fast into her, he was certain he'd never spent so much of his seed before in his life. He rested his face against her neck for a moment as he regained his faculties. He then kissed her ear with a smile.

"Call me Thomas." He whispered. He didn't need to see Elizabeth's face to know she was rolling her ultramarine eyes.

"Well, Thomas," she said dryly, slightly out of breath. "Might you condescend to untying me, or at least getting up, you're a bit heavy on the restraints." Cromwell jumped up, his legs supporting him but only just.

"I'm sorry! I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked untying her and helping her to her feet. Elizabeth flexed both wrists gingerly before smiling.

"Not at all!" She said brightly. "You were perfect, so dominant and sexy." She gave him a long, sweet kiss. "You fulfilled my every fantasy." He held her loosely around the waist.

"Your every fantasy?" He asked, "I thought you just did this for me." She looked up at him seriously.

"I did this for our anniversary; I did it for both of us." He studied her.

"You mean you liked… you actually wanted me to tie you up, to spank you?" she colored slightly and fiddled with the buttons of his suddenly fascinating doublet.

"When you put it like _that_…" She said softly, a small embarrassed smile on her lips. He lifted her chin with a finger. She licked her lips and met his eye.

"Sometimes I like to give up my control. Sometimes I like it when you dominate me, you're irresistible when you command power like you did." He kissed her again before resting his forehead against hers. After all these years of marriage he was still learning about his bride.

"The power thing - your submission, my dominance, can that apply outside the bedroom as well?" She laughed.

"No."

They both laughed.

Thomas kissed her temple as he helped her into her duster.

"Happy Anniversary, My Love." She cupped his cheek and kissed him softly.

"Happy Anniversary… God." He smiled. Yes, yes indeed it was.


End file.
